Red Light, Green Light
by Dr. Cameron
Summary: House and Cameron's relationship is a bit like the game Red Light, Green Light. Every time he does something sweet, he turns around and does something else to push her away. What's a girl supposed to think?


Hi all,

I started working on this a few months ago, around the time Half-Wit aired, but I got stuck, and ended up forgetting about it. Today I decided to finish it off, and I actually managed it. :)

There are some episodes missing, but please don't flame me for that. I tried really hard to put them in (it was actually the reason I had to stop), but eventually I realized I had to bite the bullet and get rid of them, because it messed with the pattern.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the clothes on my back. How sad.

* * *

"…like a nice piece of art in the lobby." 

He'd said these words like it were nothing. Like it weren't insulting, like it wouldn't hurt her. She was appalled, and he didn't seem to care. He was just being House. What did she expect? "I hired you because you were ridiculously overqualified and I had no doubt that you would do a superior job." Yeah right. She shouldn't have been surprised. Even if he _was_ attracted to her, he would never admit it. He would never treat her any differently than anyone else.

He'd found her crying in the lab. She tried to hide it, because, after six months of working with him, she knew all she'd get was ridicule. She never expected what he actually did. He acted…human. When she looked in his eyes she knew he, on some level, understood, and wanted to help. Neither of them would ever say it out loud, but he was concerned. He would have explained it away as his curiosity. But she knew in that moment that maybe, just maybe, whatever it was that was developing within her was mutual.

Stop.

"Do you like me?"

What the hell? When did she get so blunt? He couldn't answer that. He _wouldn't_ answer that. Gregory House was not the kind of man that shared his feelings. Why Cameron asked him she wasn't entirely sure. She told him she had to know, but did she really? Couldn't she have just gone on, accepting his silent messages, voluntary or not, and let her mind take them as it wished? If she didn't push, didn't point out this thing between them, then maybe he would have been more open to it. But no. She knew she wouldn't be satisfied with that. So she asked him. His response, although the popular expectation, wasn't something Cameron was totally sold on. A small part of her still believed, right up to the moment he opened his mouth, that he might admit his feelings. She was wrong.

He asked her to the Monster Truck Rally. She may not have known what Monster Trucks were, but she definitely knew what this was. He was reaching out again, in his subtle House way. And yet she'd pushed. Again. It was a date. It wasn't a date. Neither of them were sure. Cameron wished it was a date. House was scared it was a date. But whether it was or wasn't, they had a great time. They were talking and laughing, stealing each other's cotton candy, and just enjoying each other's company. It was normal. It was nice.

Stop.

Evil has a name: Edward Vogler. Cameron knew she couldn't blame him for what had happened though. House had a choice, and he made it. She wondered, when they were arguing in his office (actually, she wanted to scream it at him), why the hell didn't he care? Or, perhaps more accurately, why was he pretending not to? She confronted him about the thing between them, and perhaps that was the wrong move. He denied it. Again. Not only was that disappointing, but it was embarrassing. She shrivelled away.

He fought to get her back. He really fought. Came to her apartment, not once, but twice. He wouldn't do that for just another employee, would he? No, it was definite proof, she was special to him. They went out on a real date, and for the first little while, she was on cloud nine. He'd gotten her a corsage, taken her to a fancy restaurant, dressed up a little. Everything was perfect, just how she'd imagined it.

Stop.

"You don't love, you need."

And then he'd gone and said that. Maybe he was just scared of what was happening, and the only way he knew how to deal with it was to push her away. Maybe their attraction was growing stronger. To the point where he couldn't deny it, or had to go to extremes to ignore it. Either way, what's done is done. He said it.

He finally started to open up. Okay, so that lecture where he told the story of his infarction wasn't a private affair just for her, but still, she knew how important it was for them. He was letting her in, just a little. She knew how self-conscious he was of his leg, and that he didn't like to talk about it. This was something.

Stop.

"I was wrong, you just couldn't love me."

It was like she was letting go. Well, she was trying, but a part of her was hoping that he would use that time to say something, before the ship sailed. She wanted, no, she _needed_ him to say something, there and now, but he didn't.

So she'd taken the summer. Changed her hair, tried to get over him. Then she had that patient, the woman with cancer. It wasn't just her hatred and all too familiarity of the disease that she struggled with. She needed this woman to hang on, because if it was cancer, and Cindy died, then where would Cameron be? She needed something to distract her from House. She needed something she did to work out, something to go right. She needed to achieve at something on her own so she could prove to him, herself, and whoever else cared that she could survive without him. She told him she was over him, and as she did she was hoping that she sounded convincing, but then when she looked into those gorgeous blue eyes of his, and saw the concern, it hit her. She couldn't be without him. She didn't want to. And apparently he didn't either.

Stop.

"No point risking infecting the rest of the team."

Ouch. That hurt. She tried to hide it, but it did. Kalvin had coughed infected blood in her eyes, and now her life could change drastically. It wasn't something she was prepared for, or knew how to deal with. She didn't need his sarcastic comments. She needed comfort. But she wasn't going to get it from him. She turned to Chase, and he was more than happy to oblige. They had one wild night together, and she tried to forget about House. About everything. She didn't need him.

Her late husband had always said she looked amazing in red. So the night of the oncology fundraiser, she decided to use that to her advantage. If House didn't notice her now, then that would be it, wouldn't it? But he did notice her. She left him speechless, an amazing feat on its own, but considering this was them, it spoke more volumes than anything else he'd done thus far.

Stop.

"You stole my article!"

She'd been furious with Foreman, and House hadn't cared. He was actually amused by the situation, which just infuriated her more. She wanted him to take her side, to stand up for her. He thought it was all a game. He didn't understand how hard she worked, how much her career and reputation meant to her. He just didn't see her as an equal player; that's all it was. It was a fucking double standard. That's what it was. Foreman was a guy, so obviously he deserved the better treatment, more respect. Well fine, if that's how he felt, he could take those silent messages and shove them up his ass.

"Who'd wanna hurt you?"

One moment, he was standing there, leading the DDX just like every other day. He limped around the room, insulted their ideas, and when Morairty came in, he treated him with the same disrespect he did everyone else. But then he pulled out the gun. House went down, and he fired again. And then it just became so real, so fast. The mere minutes it took them to get him down to the ER felt like hours to her, and the blood, there was blood everywhere. It was coming too quick, the harder she pressed the faster it came. She told him he was going to pull through, and he told her that wasn't a certainty, but it didn't matter, she wasn't trying to convince him. She stepped back and looked at him. Lying there, lifeless, his future a total mystery. He had to pull through, he had to. For her. She couldn't live without him.

Stop.

It's a debate that has and will continue to carry on for centuries. It's a heated topic, and everyone has their own opinions. That's all fine and good, but there's no need to bully people about them. House wanted to let Ezra die. Cameron didn't. They were at a stalemate, but he kept pushing. He pushed her to her breaking point. She stormed off, and he kicked her while she was down. He showed no mercy, berated her for her decision. She tried to push him away; it didn't matter what he thought.

But then she did it. She was the one that let him die. He'd gotten to her, she'd done it. And now she was forced to question everything she thought was right. She was a total mess, but instead of his usual snarky comments, he came and found her in the Chapel, and placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. He told her he was proud of her.

Stop.

Even the great manipulators have one hurdle they can't overcome, one opponent they cannot take. For House, that man was Detective Michael Tritter, and he was out for blood. It didn't matter that he was abusing his powers, he was still hurting her in his quest to get House, and House did nothing about it. She begged with him, pleaded for him to take the deal, to end the madness, but he wouldn't do it. His damn pride came before everything, including her.

Some could argue she took a page out of his book. The syringe in her pocket, the distraction. But she didn't do it all on her own; he kissed back. He may not have been expecting it, but he was twice her size, he could have stopped her if he'd wanted to. He didn't.

Stop.

Cameron is a patient person, but even the most patient people can only wait so long. House hadn't done anything, so she decided to pursue another course of enjoyment. She propositioned Robert Chase, and, like the piece of slime he is, he didn't say no. She slept with him every chance she got, increasing the odds of House catching them. She wouldn't admit it, but Chase had figured it out. She wanted House's attention, she wanted him to care. This was just her latest tactic: jealousy. He played along, and House did catch them, but he didn't even react. He found them in the janitor's closet with Chase's hand up her shirt, and he did nothing. It was like he was giving them his blessing. Go ahead, sleep with him, I don't care.

Foreman quit, he fired Chase, but he had never expected her to resign. He had even let himself entertain the idea of working with her, just the two of them. The thought was nice. He'd come in in the morning, see her making his coffee, he'd crack his jokes and she would laugh at them. It would be perfect. Their own little world. But she burst that little bubble. Gave him some shit about getting all she could from this job, and it was time to move on. House didn't see a reason for her to leave; he hated change. But before he could say anything, she walked out the door.

The ball is in his court now.

The light is ready to change.

* * *

I worship the ground reviewers walk on.


End file.
